Words from the Front

My Original Stuff

2022-05-03T17:02:00.004-07:00

OK, it's all my original stuff when you visit here. But as they say, some stories are more original than others (nobody actually says that). Rather than one of my typical rants, screeds, or whiny complaints, however, this piece is a (relatively) serious short story I wrote for a writing contest on Vocal (Ship of Dreams):

Sorry, it's been a while since I posted. I swear I'll be better from now on.

That is all. I hope you check it out and maybe even like it:

COLD STORAGE

(Note: The theme of the contest is the Titanic. But don't worry; it's not a love story, and none of the protagonists are named Rose. I believe there is a contest entry that goes down that rabbit hole, though, if you're interested.)

Gettin' Laid While Lyin' Around

2020-05-05T23:08:00.001-07:00

Lies are what you tell so you can lay someone on the side.

But more to the point, lay is transitive (i.e., it takes an object), whereas lie is not.

This is further complicated because some idiot decided the past tense of lie should be lay, which also happens to be a present-tense verb.

But back to how to know what to write. If you can lay something, it's lay: lay the book down, lay some bricks, lay your best friend's girlfriend. This use of lay is known as a transitive verb. It transitions based on its meaning when combined with the object it affects.

Even Ratt knew this, of course:

With lie, there's no object: I'm going to lie down now, don't just lie there, he was lying on the bed. But note that in past tense, lie becomes lay: I lay there all day, NOT I laid there all day, BUT I laid (past tense of lay) the book down. In this usage, lie and lay are called intransitive verbs—they don't have objects, so they don't change.

Exceptions exist, mostly idiomatic: lay me down, I laid myself down, I lay down to sleep. Grammatically, myself and me are objects, so the verb changes from lie to lay. Similarly, it's lying low and lying around (no objects). But the flu can lay you low (you is an object, so the verb becomes lay).

So you can lay your partner, but don't just lay there (cuz laying there is wrong in so many different ways). Look for an object, and watch out for prepositions before objects, as they tend to indicate intransitive verbs—I lay WITH the pillows (intransitive) versus I laid THE pillows down (transitive).

One Way or Another (and a Tip for Remembering the Difference)

2020-04-09T16:52:00.003-07:00

I mostly don't observe the difference between these two usages in everyday editing except when only two people or things are involved, although for formal writing or when someone requests that I stick to strict rules of standard written English, I revise accordingly:

Use each other to refer to two people or things—e.g., "Edie and Bill didn't care about each other."

Use one another to refer to more than two people or things—e.g., "The people of the village cared about one another."

Why don't I care so much about the difference?

For starters, most people reading or listening to the phrase will be able to determine the meaning from context, with each other being the predominant phrasing used by most speakers of American English (and probably UK English as well, but that's a guess).

The second reason is because the distinction is tenuous in many cases anyway; to wit, in our second example, do the people in the village care about one another simultaneously or about each other one at a time but as a collective?

In summary, when the situation is two people or things, use each other so you don't risk annoying a pedantic English freak or simply making someone pause a bit (as I typically do) at the slight transgression in usage. But you needn't worry about it too much when referring to large groups and their various interactions.

If you do choose to make the formal distinction, here's how to remember it without having to look it up:

Think of one another as "one and another and another and another and another." Thus, more than two. Conversely, "each other and other and other and other" doesn't really make sense. So each other means just two.

Roll, Buckeroos, roll. Just don't let your mom catch you rolling behind the barn.

Character Descriptions That Matter

2020-03-28T18:37:00.001-07:00

How much detail to give a character's description is often hotly debated, with two primary schools of thought:

1. Include as much detail as possible about each character in order to let the reader know what the character looks like and also to provide additional imagery. It's good to include all five senses in your descriptions.

2. Only include what is absolutely necessary in order to move the story forward. Assume readers will fill in other details with their own imaginations. Descriptions should be built into the story and not just a date dump - e.g., a whole narrative paragraph describing a character but with no context.

Bestselling author Barry Eisler is a great technical writer, but he sometimes uses a little more description than I like (completely a personal preference; to most people, his writing probably seems pretty streamlined). The following are some search results for the word 'hair' in his book Detachment in which that is definitely not the case:

From their size, close-cropped hair, and Oakley wraparound shades, favored these days by Special Forces and their private sector counterparts, I made the visitors as military, maybe serving, maybe ex.

Surgeons were able to save what was left of his ear. He grew his hair long to cover his deformity, and he never came near me again.

I examined his fingertips to ensure he hadn’t managed to scrape any skin or hair off me while he was struggling—I hadn’t felt anything, but adrenaline masks pain and it wasn’t impossible that he’d managed to scratch my scalp or pull some hair. I found nothing.

She’s safe. No one can track her.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead and ran his fingers back through his hair.

>
Dox had commented on it, too, on our drive west from Las Vegas. “That hombre could make Satan’s neck hairs stand on end,” was how he’d put it.

However, note that every time Barry uses the word 'hair' he builds it into the rest of the content. Also note that his uses of 'hair' were almost always necessary for some element of the story, or they let him quickly describe a character based on a common trope so that he didn't need to go into greater detail. When he does use the word, and not to overuse, it tends to be at the center of the action, not just tacked onto a description.

This is just one example of an author who uses description well and practices #2 over #1. For Barry, it works because he knows how to use description well. It also works well for other bestselling authors.

Avoid #1 at all costs.

On the Economy of Words (another installment in the Buckaroo Saga)

2020-03-27T17:19:00.000-07:00

The single greatest transgression committed by teachers (besides fucking them) is telling students that English comprises eight parts of speech. So wrong. English has *two* parts of speech and *six* little helpers (interjections are bullshit, but that's a minor point). Perhaps if people realized this, they wouldn't engage in so much pointless drivel: twisted old trees covered with brown bark, tall skyscrapers, wrinkled old people, blue skies, dark nights (OK, maybe that one on a new moon).

Here's a little secret, Buckeroos. Follow me into the chamber where we make the sausage (it's OK, it's just a little prick). Come closer, let me whisper in your cute little mouselike ears (please remember—no hyphen in "mouselike"): *Every word counts. Every word matters. And every time you add a word, you dilute all the others*. See that? My extra "the" (for example) just diluted the other words in that sentence.

Think of it this way. Let's say I am writing a book whose main thrust (so to speak) is the unholy trinity of the word, concept of, and act of "fuck." Now I surround that word with 100,000 other words that have nothing to do with "fuck." What have I done? I've made "fuck" inconsequential. So the lazy, ego-driven writers will say, "I can fix that shit. I'll just add 10,000 more instances of the word 'fuck.' " How 'bout you just write better?

Extend the reasoning to an entire book. Think about the core, the *two* parts of speech, the subject and verb. What are you *really* trying to say? Are you describing trees, or are you telling the world about an assassin who was once a ballerina but now kills children for sport and riches? Trees likely have no place there. And your silly preoccupation with trees means two things: (1) every other word in your work has been diluted and (2) you need to get laid (ignore that last part, young'uns):

That is all. Carry on with your bad selves, Buckaroos

A Brief Aside (the '19' Ate My Bray-EEN!) to Avoid Writing a More Difficult Post

2020-03-27T14:09:00.004-07:00

Being Famous Won't Always Save You from the Reaper

Those who know me well know that I don't shy away from criticism. I mean criticizing others; what sort of masochist welcomes criticism from others? 😉 Certainly not me, or so I've heard before blocking such critics before they unfairly drip their bloody tears upon the fabric of my extraordinary life.

OK, where was I? Right. Criticism. The bigger the fish, the bigger the ~~fire~~ ~~fry~~ Frey. In this case, James Frey. I dislike James Frey's writing so much that I actually contemplated intentionally misspelling his name just to make it harder to find him. But that's like trying to keep a coke addict from finding a dealer—ain't gonna happen. But I'll be damned if I'm going to supply a link to that freak; a music video is better:

And on and on. But truly, Frey is small fry. Let's go bigger—a sacred cow, as it were—the only difference being that I'm fairly certain that a blind, syphilitic cow with palsy could outwrite this pathetic excuse for a writer. In this case, though, I shall share a cute little poem I wrote to enshrine him forever in my memory. He shall remain nameless except that I call him J. D. (for Just Dumb):

Here I stand, alone,

In my tiny belfry,

Looking at a fly.

He slyly wants to land,

On my panoply,

Of luscious food so ri-pey.

He thinks he is so sly,

That funny little fly.

Killing him would surely,

Make me wanna cry.

Keening to the sky,

My will shall pass me by,

As I slice my wrists, die.

For in my hoosegow high,

I have naught to read,

But CATCHER IN THE RYE.

Let the hate flow through you, my little ones. Devour it like manna from heaven, for it is good. It is oh so good.

I told you it ate my brain.

Party on, Buckeroos.

Nouns and Pronouns in the Age of #WeAllGonnaDie!!! (Part 1 of 2)

2020-03-26T13:02:00.001-07:00

Intro

Let’s talk a bit about nouns and pronouns, shall we? Hold tight, because much of this post will be in reverse order (yeah, I didn’t know what meant either; you’ll see soon enough).

Firstly, I’m grouping these little buggers together because pronouns are basically just reflections of nouns. By that, I mean simply that pronouns are replacements, placeholders if you will, for nouns in their longer (and sometimes quite annoying) forms.

Secondly, a brief note from my introductory post on the parts of speech (Introduction to the Parts of Speech), mostly because I was too inept to include it originally. June Casagrande says it exceptionally well in her quite excellent book The Joy of Syntax:

To really understand how sentences work, we need to distinguish between word classes and word functions. Think of word classes as clubs. Membership in these clubs is recorded in dictionaries. For example, look up the word paint. You’ll see it’s a noun and a verb. You can buy paint or you can paint your house. It’s not a member of the word class we call adjective. But it can still do an adjective’s job in a paint store.

Sort of makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Perhaps those fuckers who invented English had a seriously messed up idea of how to screw people. Much like a politician (any politician), you’d almost think English’s creators didn’t give fuck-all about anyone.

It also reinforces what I’ve always held close to my heart, that English teachers have failed us by focusing on word membership rather than word function. Think about it. When you’re writing, do you think

“What type of word do I need? What’s it called: adjective, verb, or noun?”

or do you think

“What word would best say what I’m trying to communicate to the reader [i.e., what’s its function]?”

Yeah, I’m not going to answer it for you, as it seems pretty damn obvious. Sorry not sorry, Buckeroo.

Ms. Casagrande gives us a twofer in her quote: not only can words be classified in two distinct ways, but also words can serve multiple functions. Thus another reason to focus on function over membership—many (perhaps most) words serve multiple functions, and thus categorizing them according to membership is confusing for many learners as well as technically not even correct in many cases. No wonder so many people hate English classes and call me a Nazi from time to time (I’m not politically correct at all, but when you call someone a Nazi, you’re minimizing the horrors experienced by several groups, to put it mildly—not like I give a fuck what you call me, but still).

OK, enough of that shit; let’s get on about nouns and what they do.

Nouns

In simplest parlance, nouns represent creatures (you’ve probably seen the term “persons” or “people” used), places, or things.

Another way to think about nouns, especially because it’s my way of thinking about them and I’m nearly always right, is that nouns are actors in sentences. They do things, they think and feel things, and they have things done to them or thought about them.

The following list comprises three respective examples of a creature, place, and thing:

bird

New York City

dildo

(That last one is probably not the best choice for googling, kids, but if your parents opted you out of sex-education classes, now’s your chance; just make sure you use grandma’s or grandpa’s computer, or the computer of anyone who’s recently pissed you off.)

A creature, in this case a bird, can be an animal, a person, or anything similar. The name of a fantastical creature in a sci-fi novel (e.g., Gollum) is also a noun.

A place, in this case New York City, can be any place: a town, city, room, building, etc.

A thing can be pretty much anything that acts, feels, thinks, is acted upon, or is thought about. In fact, one could say that creatures and places are really just subcategories of things.

Once again, you DO NOT need to remember the names of parts of speech and their derivatives; just remember their function in a sentence—if it acts, thinks, or feels or is acted upon or thought about, it’s overwhelmingly likely that the word in question is a noun.

You may have noticed something else about these examples. The word bird is not capitalized, but Gollum is. New York City is capitalized, but city by itself is not. The word dildo is not capitalized, nor would huge sphincter-busting dildo, but Acme Dildo by the Acme Sex Toy Company (also capitalized) definitely would be.

The capitalized versions of nouns are called proper nouns. Why the fuck they gave them that name instead of, well, “capital nouns,” is anyone’s guess. That’s what they’re called. The noncapitalized nouns are called common nouns. Sounds like some seriously messed-up class shaming to me, but who am I to judge (man, I crack myself up sometimes—because, you know, I judge all the time and shit)?

In this case, what it means when you capitalize a noun. If a noun is truly unique, if there is no other like it in the world, it is likely that you should capitalize it. That’s how we end up with New York City (one unique place), city (any city; there are many), bird (many birds; not specific), Big Bird (one big, furry, yellow freak), dildo (many, many dildos, whether politicians or others), and Acme Dildo (one specific dildo brand—further discussion follows).

Some smartass mofos (not capitalized because there are so many of them and none are truly unique—so, so sad) may now feel obligated to try to outsmart me by idiotically noting, “Well, Brent, you asshole, what about ‘Pittsburg, California’ and ‘Pittsburg, Kansas’?” or “Acme makes more than one dildo. Duh.” Whatever, you miscreants, like I should have to spend time responding to your blather. There’s ONE Pittsburg, California, and ONE Pittsburg, Kansas, and even when a state has more than one city with the same name, each reference is to one specific place.

As for dildos, since idiots seem so focused on them (perverted fucks), there’s only one Acme Sex Toy Company (or so I’ve heard; more enlightened readers may well contradict me on this point and should post such knowledge publicly in the comments; make sure you include your full name, email address, and links to all your social media accounts), which is what makes it unique. Note, therefore, that the correct nomenclature is Acme Dildo (a specific product, not just one of the dildos with that name) but a dildo from the Acme Sex Toy Company (just one of the dildos from that company). The product is unique. It’s a single, unique product from Acme, so the product package says Acme Dildo, but when writing about it more generically, it’s an Acme dildo or a dildo from Acme.

Yeah, it’s confusing, but as we progress with these lessons (or I come up with better shit and secretly revise all my earlier posts), it will make more sense.

This discussion of nouns is intentionally brief. Nouns are relatively easy to understand; their uses in clauses and appositives as well as proper syntax within more complicated sentences are much more technical. Don’t worry—I’ll cover them eventually; this just isn’t the place to obfuscate meaning (I mean, shit, this is post #2 in a series, so failing now would be sort of sad).

In other news, I lied. Pronouns will be covered in the next post.

Thanks, Buckeroos. Be safe, and kick some “19” ass. And if you can’t do that, at least punch a politician in the neck or something.

The Parts of Speech—An Overview

2020-03-09T17:15:00.000-07:00

Before I set out to painstakingly write a post for each part of speech (and believe me, it's going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you), I thought I'd perhaps provide a summary, including my always-unique perspective, of the parts of speech.

I'm doing this because I'm convinced that the parts of speech are the only thing some English teachers actually retained from their college studies. Because of this, the parts of speech seem to be taught with the same rote fascination that we use to memorize the periodic table and subway train numbers. I'm not saying it's as painful as letting a 6'6", three-hundred-pound Samoan (shout out Tulsi!) punch you in the 'nads, but I'd probably flip a coin.

A quick analysis of what matters, and more important, what you can ignore, not only cuts through the bullshit and mystery but also means I don't have to write as much, which is a win–win as far as I'm concerned.

The Traditional Parts of Speech

English has traditionally comprised eight parts of speech:

Nouns
Pronouns
Verbs
Adjectives
Adverbs
Prepositions
Conjunctions
Interjections (or exclamations)

As with many things geekish, when English nerds gather 'round, drinking decaffeinated tea and discussing things like false attractions to predicate nouns and the subjunctive vagaries of modal auxiliaries, all hell breaks loose when some idiot unwittingly mentions the elephant in the room: "How many parts of speech are there, anyway?"

Well, guess what? I'm happy to be your idiot today, though I'll be doing so in a much more wittingly way.

Let's dispense with one thing right off the bat. Interjections don't deserve to be their own part of speech. Because they quite literally exist in a vacuum with no connection to the other parts of speech, feel free to ignore them for the purposes of understanding the parts of speech.

(Note 1: If you are attending postsecondary school to pursue a degree in, say, English, literature, or linguistics, you ignore interjections at your own peril. Some professor surely loves them. Note 2: This doesn't mean you should swear off interjections in your writing. A hearty "Holy Fuck!!!" can often convey what several paragraphs of drivel cannot.)

Eight Parts of Speech? You Can Forget That Now

You've probably heard an instructor say that each part of speech is equally important for writing and that without being able to identify which part is which, one will be unable to understand syntax and grammatical conventions. First, bullshit. Second, bullshit (though it will make things considerably harder on the student).

The parts of speech are not equal. I already hanged interjections at the start of this post, and I'm about to make five of the remaining seven elements second-class citizens in the English octagon of death. Nouns and verbs are hands down the two most important parts of speech. Technically, it's not possible to write anything in English without a decent grasp of what nouns and verbs are.

Now some smartass is thinking, "But what about interjections? And what about one-word sentences such as "Breezy" or one-element phrases rendered as sentences, such as "A really hot one"? Save it for someone who gives a fuck. In all those cases, a noun or verb can be understood from context. So get it straight: Every piece of writing in English uses a noun and a verb (as subject and predicate) to convey meaning either literally or through context.

We are then left with two parts of speech, the noun and verb, essentially the king and queen of English, along with five serfs that do their bidding. Because pronouns are basically substitute nouns, we can throw them in as the court jester, leaving us with three important parts of speech and four that are quite relevant but not always necessary.

Why is this important? First, the next time you write a sentence and think you have to throw in a bunch of adjectives and adverbs to dress it up so it's super-awesome and shit, stop to think about whether you need to do so. Maybe you can communicate just fine without so much stuff. Second, it's easier to understand syntax and grammar if one thinks about English in a more linguistic manner, with all writing created by building onto the base of a noun and verb. Otherwise you'll find yourself running around worrying about some adjective or adverb that could just as easily be taken out back and shot in the head.

Function over Form

If you've read much of my writing, you may be aware that I have a tendency to ridicule stupidity in the use, and especially the teaching, of English, largely because the most prolific idiots tend to think they are also the smartest and most skilled. Good news—they often are not. Treating the eight parts of speech as equal elements of writing is lazy, and it's wrong. It's evidence that some of those who "know" only do so because they chose the status quo over critical thinking.

Which leads me to my next axe-grinder. I'm quite aware that most names for the parts of speech are derived from ancient language when cavemen and cavewomen had about 100 total words in their language (for instance, noun is derived from earlier words meaning name). That's still no excuse for continuing to hammer home the definitions while ignoring function.

Sure, we need to know the names, or at least to have some passing knowledge of what they represent. But we can always look them up. What's more important is to think about how these words function (keeping in mind that many words—e.g., dwelling—can serve as multiple parts of speech depending on the situation):

Actors: nouns and pronouns

Actions: verbs

Modifiers: adjectives and adverbs

Connectors: prepositions and conjunctions

Recently deceased: interjections

You can call them whatever you want so long as you come up with a nomenclature that allows you to differentiate how words function in a sentence.

Because the gods know that we already have enough blowhards running around screaming that modifiers and determiners are completely different things even though they don't sound like two different words at all.

Go forth and conquer, Buckeroos.

Unintentionally Fake News

2020-03-02T22:18:00.001-08:00

Sometimes in the Title, Sometimes in the Content, but Always Educational

Exhibit 1. A drummer and the other members of a rock band were displeased by this report. The reporter's assumption, though wrong, does seem the most statistically probable. That the band is a Christian rock band might have had something to do with why the band reacted more vigorously than one might expect:

Exhibit 2. Though the druggie drummer article is damn close, it's not quite as good as the "first hand job experience" headline (use hyphens, you lazy fucks):

And the beat goes on.

How Changes in Writing Style Wreak Havoc with Press Releases

2020-03-01T09:24:00.001-08:00

Why Choices Concerning Brevity and Punctuation Are Not Simply Style Decisions

Over the last few years (and traditionally in higher-end literature), it's become somewhat common to use a comma in place of and at times. One might write, "The man, a character who was sturdy, full of life, ran toward the forest."

No argument from me. Whether to use and depends on style and whether the prose makes sense to readers. But there's a reason for not using a comma in place of and on a regular basis—commas are used for certain phrases in English that can create a dual meaning that does confuse readers, especially when striving to reduce character count. Case in point:

Looks good, except that this could mean many things, none of which are clearly defined:

Perhaps the comma is a substitute for and, in which case the press release above is letting us know that this children's book author is a hooker and an OK author.

Maybe the author is both a hooker and an "OK" (decent but not great) author.

Another likely scenario (the correct one) is that the author is from Hooker, Oklahoma.

A comma following "OK" would have helped dramatically if the publication was really that opposed to spelling out the word Oklahoma.

The Associated Press Stylebook recommends spelling out state names, and the foregoing is undoubtedly one reason why. That's especially true for those that can be misinterpreted as a word, such as "OK" (which is why AP lists eight state names that should never be abbreviated—AK, HI, ID, IA, ME, OH, TX, UT).

This would have cleared things up:

Hooker, Oklahoma, Author Publishes Children's Book

The source of this gaffe appears to disagree with me, however:

What Say You, Poor Little Adverbs?

2020-02-29T04:30:00.000-08:00

Sure We Love 'Em, but Do They Really Deserve to Live? (Answer provided below.)

That thing against adverbs is stupid. Really? (See what I did there?):

very
actually
cheerfully
smilingly
playfully
gleefully
haughtily
guiltily
painfully
so-illy
smirk-illy

every dialogue tag other than "said" or "asked," and preferably neither

wonderfully
darkly
stormily
mightily

Girls in Yellow Cars

2020-02-28T07:52:00.000-08:00

A Missive in Which I Discern the Many Nuances of That, Which, and Questionable Choices

NOTE: You Aussies, Brits, Canadians (mostly), and other people who speak English with a weird accent and refer to speaking the Queen's English and such other nonsense which makes me clapperclaw the walls may want to skip this entire post. Thanks.

Why am I posting this? Because I see errors along the lines of what I'm about to discuss every day. Because knowing the difference will improve your writing—and your reading. And if you don't think that's why, I'll save you the trouble—I'm a grammar Nazi, I think I'm smarter than you, I'm an asshole, I hate people, I'm raining on everyone's parade, I just want attention, I like to control what you write, blah, blah, blah. Have at it, like I give a flying fuck.

In general, (1) if you're using "that" in a sentence, it should have no commas on either side of it; (2) if you are using "which" in a sentence, it should nearly always be preceded by a comma, and (3) when in doubt, follow #1 and #2 consistently and most people will be none the wiser (Grammar Nazi? Pfft.).

For those more interested in the topic, remember learning in school that "that" is restrictive and "which" is nonrestrictive? Yeah, me neither, but they teach it in copyediting school (sure, it's a thing).

In short, a restrictive clause (phrase) further defines a word, whereas a nonrestrictive clause tells us more about something but is not a necessary element for identifying what we are writing about. Confusing, eh? This is compounded by the way this is taught. Heard one of these? "It's not needed." "It's not necessary." "It's irrelevant."

Bullshit. Every word is relevant. A nonrestrictive phrase is completely relevant, but it's not required as a way of defining a "thing." Further, as with any sort of defining clause (often an appositive, a descriptor set between commas), it gives the readers more info without having to spell everything out. E.g.,

"Jill's car that she bought in July was yellow."

Strictly speaking, using "that" with no comma to separate "that she bought in July" from the rest of the sentence tells the reader that (1) Jill has more than one car; (2) this particular car was purchased in July and is yellow; and (3) Jill has really shitty taste in cars.

Not creating a "hey, by the way" phrase (i.e., "which she bought in July," preceded by a comma) says to the reader, "Hey, man, Jill has more than one car, which is why I must clarify that the car I'm talking about is the one she bought in July that's yellow."

But what about this?

"Jill's car, which she bought in July, was yellow."

For Americans, this usage will sound more normal to the ears. The reason for my opening paragraph is because in UK English, that and which are often interchangeable, thus making this English "guidance" tenuous at times as well as hard to decipher. Keep in mind, though, that American publishing professionals notice this, some diligently and others dismissively.

Anyway, back to Jill's questionable car choices. The second example gives us that "hey, by the way" clause. If we eliminate the nonrestrictive clause, we're left with

"Jill's car was yellow."

What does that tell us? Well, absent further information, Jill has one car, and it's yellow. Of course, if the writing is referring to a particular point in time and some girl named Jill and the cops said, "What color was Jill's car?" You might answer with that statement even though Jill owns a fucking used car lot. To those who want to throw up hypotheticals, sorry not sorry. In the real world, we may assume that Jill has but one car, and it's yellow.

With the clause included, we're merely noting, for added detail, that Jill purchased this car in July. Does that tell us more that will help us identify the exact car? No, because we already know that it's Jill's car, which pinpoints exactly what car it is. That she purchased it in July is extra info, but not "required" info for identifying the car.

Further, note the use of "which" in the second example. "Which" is the standard structure following a comma (i.e., for a nonrestrictive clause), not "that." As noted earlier, the word following the comma should never be "that," because "that," in standard English, introduces restrictive rather than nonrestrictive clauses. In the first example, then (despite how bad the sentence sounds—it really should be written differently, but I wrote it that way for example consistency), we should assume that Jill owns more than one car, and "that she bought in July" tells us which of Jill's many (or perhaps two) cars we are talking about—the one she bought in July.

Of course, I would just write, "Jill owns a yellow car," but I'm a bit minimalist.

Carry on, Buckeroos.

A Brief Clarification

2020-02-27T08:25:00.001-08:00

The Observation Still Seems Salient Three Years Later

Reading Bill Walsh's obit reminded me how important it is to be kinder and gentler when playing with others:

(For those who may be wondering—no, the irony that George Bush was formerly the director of the CIA is not lost on me; not at all.)

Anyway. back to the point. In the spirit of giving, two clarifications (bonus round; yay):

I do not hate sportswriters—I hate most sportswriting, a dark crevice from which seeps an unfamiliar ooze resembling English but that is truly a bastardization of language perpetrated by hacks. The only thing worse is literary fiction (see #2).
At least sports writing is not literary fiction, a bottomless dark crevasse from which weeps an all-too-familiar ooze resembling English but that is truly a bastardization of the language perpetrated by those who value MFAs over genius and technical expertise over storytelling. Literary fiction was created to reward hacks who are incapable of writing actual stories. I wish (I know—"it is my wish"—whatever) that all the literary fiction authors would become sportswriters. At least then they would have some redeeming literary content and quality to recommend them.

Uh oh, did I just slam all the literary fiction "authors"? Oops.

Book Review—Too Many Carrots

2020-02-25T04:30:00.000-08:00

Awesome Illustrations, but the Story's Resolution, Along with How It Gets There, Is Quite Problematic. 2/5

Too Many Carrots, a children's picture book by Katy Hudson (Capstone Young Readers)

I bought this book in Barnes & Noble when Capstone marketing-blitzed it by paying for an entire table display in each store (I can't imagine what the budget was for that). I've read it several times and experienced several emotions reading it, but mostly it just makes me sad.
Before I get into my breakdown of the book, however, something has troubled me about it for a while, so I will address it in the hope that I can finally be released from that woeful demon: I honestly don't know how this book was ever published (in its current form, I mean). But I have a theory.

Often I'll give a promo copy of a recently published book, or an advance reader copy, to a random person, and they'll say, "What's the moral of the story?" Seems simple enough, doesn't it? But it's not, because those in the industry are likely to treat such a question as infantile, naive, or simplistic. At times such a question can be any or all of those things, but it really depends on the book. Some books (such as AESOP'S FABLES) have the primary purpose of providing moral lessons through story, so obviously "What's the moral?" is a relevant question. Conversely, a book about avenging the death of one's family at the hands of mobsters could merely be escapism with no moral lesson in sight. Although that's true, every story has some moral compass even when its intent is merely to entertain.

Currently, most industry professionals (agents, editors, publishers, etc.) give only limited weight to moral background and logic while championing illustrations over text and logic, and word count and philosophy over story and logic. For example, industry professionals (especially agents, it seems) will ask about nearly every children's book, "What is the problem?" and "Did the main character solve his/her problem himself/herself?" It seems incredibly important to these folks that children (as main characters in a story) always take the bull by the horns and solve their own problems without any advice or intervention by others, especially adults. Which is ludicrous when the main character is five years old—or a rabbit. What, house too cold? Solve your own problem, five-year-old! Oops, burned the house down, but at least you solved the problem without a pesky adult interfering. The other problem with this reasoning (beyond defying logic at times) is that it becomes the goal of the story rather than one element of it. That's what I think happened here. Even though the story makes no sense, is illogical, and teaches and admires incredibly poor moral decision-making and values, it can be said that in the end, the main character did solve his own problem. There, now the demon has been exorcised. Thanks.

First, this book has some of the best art and layout that I've ever seen—they are absolutely impeccable. Tiny little touches abound, and then there are others like the copyright and title pages that just scream, "CUTE as hell." The fonts and paragraph layout are classical/traditional (which I like in children's books especially), but when there is action, the letters suddenly join in with the rest of the art and become bigger than life—exceptional. Someone spent hours getting even the tiniest details right.

The story is cute in some ways and deals with a fairly straightforward problem—selfish people (or less charitably, as noted by another reviewer, sociopaths) who trample on their friends, often without even realizing it (maybe not as sociopathic then, I hope). Not to spoil the story, but then again, it can be read in about 5 minutes and it's not like anyone will say, "Ah, man, I totally didn't see that plot twist coming and now you ruined it for me." Rabbit can't fit in his home because of his carrot fetish (I like fetishist, er, rabbit fetishist, maybe carrot fetishist?). Unwilling to throw out his carrot stash because of his raging carrot addiction, Rabbit takes shelter at a friend's house but soon stuffs so many carrots in the friend's house that they both must move out. And the cycle continues with another three friends until they are all homeless. So far, so good. My only problem with the friends is that they seemed a little clueless that their friend was bad news. Perhaps the request for shelter would be accompanied by this dialogue:

"Hey, Rabbit and Squirrel, what happened?" asked Beaver.
"We had to move because of all the carrots."
"Well, move some carrots out."
"We can't do that!"
"Oh, OK, fine. Move in with me."
"Thanks, Beaver!!!" said Rabbit and Squirrel.
"Let me just grab my ginormous freaking bag of carrots," said Rabbit.
"Wait a second, buddy. No carrots in MY house!"

But instead, they are such good friends that they let him bring his stash into their houses each time. BUT . . . it's a necessary construction for the story—i.e., without his friends letting him move in with them, there would be no story, so that's not really a criticism. It's like when people read an 800-word children's picture book and start asking questions about character backstories and motivations. Really? It's not like a children's book has the extra padding of a book like MOBY DICK. Just pointing out that his friends are awfully compliant—and also as noted by another reviewer, perhaps they are just classic enablers. A bit trite, but for a children's book it seems to work.

Here's where I have an issue with the story—the resolution. Rabbit finally sees the error of his ways when he and all his friends become homeless. Then he remembers that he does have a house; it just happens to be filled to the rafters with carrots. Does he throw all the carrots out and let his friends move in? Sort of. They get to move in WITH his carrots, and in the final scene they are all sitting around munching on carrots, happy as clams, blowing noisemakers and partying on with their addict friend. And it's OK because Rabbit has finally learned to share. Except that the problem never was that Rabbit was unwilling to share his carrots—none of his friends ever expressed an interest in having even one—rather, the problem was that Rabbit showed no boundaries and no respect for his friends when he imposed on them with his person and his vegetables, as tasty as they might have been. And ultimately, did Rabbit learn anything? Maybe about sharing carrots. But not about boundaries or two-way relationships. I didn't find anything built into the story that would convince me otherwise, and I doubt that a child would, either.

The Three Best Bands in the World Right Now

2020-02-24T04:00:00.000-08:00

It's Just My Opinion, Though I'm Certain I'm Right

Alter Bridge:

(Watch the adjustments by the players to unexpected time changes--absolute pros.)

Gojira:

(Baller as hell.)

Volbeat:

(Mother Mary, full of grace, save us from ourselves.)

Hopefully (yes, I used it), it goes without saying that (1) these are in no particular order—that would be like totally pretentious and stuff—and (2) these examples, even if older material, are still relevant today—even more so.

Doppelgängers

2020-02-23T12:15:00.001-08:00

Donnie Iris and Eugene Levy—Separated at Birth?

I've always found it strange that no one ever comments about the fact that Eugene Levy and Donnie Iris appear to be the same person:

And has Eugene Levy ever been observed at a Donnie Iris show (I mean, other than performing as Donnie Iris)? Nope. Watch this whole video and you'll never once see Eugene Levy:

You also won't see a girl named Leah, either, but whatever. Explaining this is like explaining the supernatural, so I'm not overly concerned about Leah at this point. We must isolate Levy and Iris and harness their magical twin powers. Yes, the power of the doppelgänger.

Book Review—The Girl Before

2020-02-22T16:12:00.003-08:00

A decent read, but incomplete, flat character development sinks it. 3/5

DISCLAIMER: I received a free galley of this book on NetGalley. However, I was under no requirement to read or review this book, nor am I affiliated in any way with the author or publisher.

Let's begin with this from the book's description:

“Immediate guarantee: You will not be able to put this book down. . . . Fans of Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train will realize that there’s not only more where that came from, but it’s also more thrilling.”

—American Booksellers Association

Uh, no. I put this book down dozens of times while reading it. Which is too bad, because I likely would have stopped reading this book about a third of the way through if I hadn't been reading it to review it. It just didn't hook me. The hook itself wasn't bad; I just didn't feel compelled to find out more. That said, at about the halfway point, the writing depth and tempo increase pretty dramatically, and eventually I ripped through the final 20%. I was pleased that the ending was solid. Sadly as I received a complimentary copy of this book, I don't think the ABA will be mailing me a check any time soon.

In reviewing this book, I've been forced to do something I typically would not—read it only as a reader and writer would, ignoring some of the style decisions. Why? Because I felt my disagreement with some style decisions might color my opinions, even though readers may not care about such issues. For most books, editor style decisions and reader reception of those decisions are ultimately one and the same. Oddly, with this book I find that most fouls by the writer and editor were minor or subjective; many readers won't notice, or more likely won't care, about such decisions. Delaney communicates well enough without needing to justify most of those decisions. In the "What I Didn't Like" section below, I'll touch on the areas where it falls apart, because for some readers (especially those over 30 or 40 years of age), some style choices may be off-putting.

WHAT I LIKED

The writing is pretty tight. Delaney writes with strength and doesn't waste words. Other than the few stylistic issues listed later, I like Delaney's tempo and rhythm. Some turns of phrase are unique and vivid, and the descriptions are solid. Delaney really shines when writing about mental and emotional states, and how they connect and motivate people.

The plotting is solid and the logic is solid in most places.

Unlike many writers who seem to rely on unnecessary red herrings, withholding information, and improbable plot twists that lead to even more improbable resolutions, Delaney keeps it on the level and doesn't try to push it too hard or trick readers. I know this isn't consistent with the "twists" noted by some reviewers, but that's how I saw the story—pretty straightforward. And it was refreshing.

When I was about to give up on this story, it started to come to life. Though it's disappointing that it took so long to build, it was worth the wait, ultimately.

WHAT I DIDN'T LIKE

Repeated use of "like" and "goes" as indirect dialogue tags (e.g., "He goes, Hey baby, and I'm like, Get lost"—not a real line from the book). Not only is it distracting to readers, but it's a bit patronizing, as I find it hard to believe that London women in their twenties really talk like that as a matter of course, especially those who would attract a man like Edward Monkford, who is older, elitist, and educated.

The decision to write in present-tense, first-person, female. Talk about a three-headed monster. I get the whole present-tense cult right now. And ultimately, though it slows me down at times as a reader, it's not overly bothersome. But a male writer (Delaney is a pen name for a male writer) trying to write two female characters in first-person with any depth is a stretch here. Every chapter switches POV from the original "girl before" to the most recent "girl." This would lend itself naturally to changing the tense with each chapter with a change in narrator. Maybe it was tried and didn't work. All I know for sure is that I often had to flip around in the book several times to figure out the narrator for a given chapter. Making the two main characters so similar in physical appearance didn't help. It's only later in the book that enough divergence is created for the characters to become stronger. Somewhat masking the characters' true natures to create repetition and enhance the the before–now thing is understandable, but that red herring seemed a bit contrived and merely for effect. I don't really think it made that much difference to the story, and as a reader, it was confusing.

Delaney's choice to write in female voice may seem fine to some readers. To me, the female characters, who happened to be the two main characters in the story, were wooden and not especially well drawn. Later in the story they gained depth and emotional color, but early on they seemed nearly interchangeable (in a confusing rather than an echoing way). At times, the female characters seemed a bit dim-witted. Later we find why one seems that way, but what of the other? It's a bit too much to swallow at times.

I was going to call using "Girl" in the title a trite marketing gimmick, but I don't believe that's the case here (at least it's not obvious if it is). And it actually makes sense.

Usually when I start out a bit unsure about a book, it tends to ultimately disappoint me, and it's failings tend to grow into a forest of confusion by the end, but I was pleasantly surprised by this book. It grew in strength as it arced, and it maintained its logic through the full resolution of story. It never tried to go over the top with bizarre twists or improbable plot gaps.

Here's Your Proof

2020-02-20T22:59:00.000-08:00

And Now for Something Completely Different . . .

2020-02-20T13:42:00.003-08:00

I Don't Spend All of My Time Bitching About Poor Writing

Here's a little something I penned for reviewermag.com back in June 2014.

A Better Mousetrap

Spiderbait, Spiderbait LP
Reviewed by Brent D. Tharp

Oh musical gods, why hast ye forsaken me? Once, long ago, in a place where only vinyl and 8-track tapes existed, a band’s first album was titled using the band’s name, i.e., eponymously. That’s how we got Bread, Boston, [The] Chicago [Transit Authority], [Fresh] Cream, Supertramp, Buckingham Nicks . . . well, you get the idea.

Chicago and Cream may have gone a little overboard on the whole put-your-band’s-name-in-the-title-of-every-album thing, but I’m not knocking it—marketing and branding are as important for bands as they are for any other business.
In recent years, however, bands suddenly started releasing self-titled albums as their third, fourth, fifth, or gazillionth album (and in the process sliced a dagger through the heart of the catchphrase self-titled debut). Since I have no warm and fuzzy feelings toward corporate music executives, I’m going to chalk this up to some A&R guys deciding, randomly and after a few martinis, that “henceforth no debut album shall be named after its band.” And that was the end of that.

That’s how we get debut albums with bizarre titles like Teenage Thunderbolt Anarchy or Best of [insert name of obnoxious band here] before they release any music, and while still publicly unknown (the Sex Pistols notwithstanding). Still, none of this explains how a band could (1) think the name Fun would be catchy and popular, rather than simply dorky and unimaginative; and (2) be perplexed that no one noticed their existence for so long. Oh well.

So let us not wonder, though we might, why Spiderbait named their eighth album Spiderbait. Maybe record execs ordained it so from on high, or maybe the band were just tired. Kidding aside, going for a simple album title after a nine-year absence may indicate a new maturity level for band members, or perhaps a back-to-basics approach to song making. But since I’m just guessing, it could also be sunspots.

Spiderbait? Yes, grasshopper. Spiderbait are one of Australia’s most popular bands, perhaps following AC/DC, Little River Band, Midnight Oil, Men at Work, and the Angels. Rick Springfield I’m not so sure about.

Spiderbait—Not too serious (left to right: Whitt; Kram; Janet)

Spiderbait even had a #1 smash in Australia with what sounds like an adrenaline- or amphetamine-fueled cover of “Black Betty.” The hit was no anomaly—it was part-and-parcel a representative Spiderbait song by the time the band were done with it. I say that because I’m not about to go through a summary of Spiderbait’s first seven albums. All I’ll say is that the songs are mostly stripped down with raw humor throughout, and lyrics you likely won’t hear anywhere else. I’ve never been a fan of genres, but to help you out, one of the corporate category factories refers to Spiderbait’s music as “thrash pop,” whatever the hell that is. In addition to that completely unhelpful label, this review takes numerous liberties in comparing Spiderbait to other bands with which listeners may be familiar—fair warning.

“Straight Through the Sun” is a hard driving, raging opener with strong tough percussion. Spiderbait’s recognizable fuzzy pedal effects are immediately apparent, never quite subsumed by Kram’s tight, pressure-laden vocals and pounding snare. The song is a great opener, and also the first single released from the album. The atmosphere of the song is techno because of the fuzziness, including some filtering of the vocals, but also has the raw sound of garage rock owing to the intensity of the instrumental part of the song. So you don’t think the song was recorded in a garage, however, Spiderbait shot the video for this song on a beach somewhere (methinks Australia, as that’s the obvious supposition).

“It’s Beautiful” (also released as a single) would seem a jarring change in tone, especially with English’s lilting vocals, but is not a surprising choice given Spiderbait’s sometimes eccentric approach to song organization. A song about how our little planet is attractive in spite of (and because of) its grittiness and imperfections, the song has some nice transitions, and its emotion and complexity build throughout. The official video for this one tells the story quite nicely, and emphasizes that one’s environment is less important than the company one keeps. The unofficial video has a similar message, but is shot with a completely different style and different content. It should be noted that the lyrical content of this one is extremely metaphorical (intentionally or otherwise), and its message could be interpreted contrapositively if one were so inclined.

“Miss the Boat,” continuing the garage rock theme for a bit, has a quick guitar slide before launching into a driving, staccato (well, as staccato as Spiderbait can get) guitar intro that transitions back into familiar fuzziness. The lyrics and harmony on this one are killer, with Kram’s down-and-dirty vocal styling nicely offset by English’s syrupy sweetness. Some memorable lines include the first: “I take pride in missin’ the boat, I don’t wanna be a sailor,” and later, “Take heed to what I say, don’t go out in the water / Take pride in missin’ the boat, you gotta climb your mountain with your own rope.” With a running time of 5:13, not only is this tune the longest on the album, but it’s also unusually long by Spiderbait standards. It has a one-minute intro, and the final chorus is buffered by a 1:00+ extended bridge rolling into a guitar solo and a 1:10 outro that fades out with a blistering improvisational guitar–drum sequence.

“Supersonic” is another lilting song with English singing lead. It opens with a raw acoustic guitar lead-in followed by English’s nearly a cappella vocals, which are later backed by a fairly infectious instrumental base (keys and/or slide guitar, as well as a relentless muted snare)—all of this serves to accent and echo English’s haunting vocals. We get a stronger understanding of just how much range English has on this song, more so than on “It’s Beautiful.” Kram plays aggressively on this one, but the percussion is muted perfectly so that it creates a sonic base for English, rather than competing. The fade-out includes the sound of a jet engine spinning up. The song is pretty dreamy, but a nice little break before what comes next.

“Where’s the Baseline,” if for no other reason, appears to be in this exact spot on the album to make sure we don’t forget that this is, after all, a f——king rock album. It opens with some spoken word, then uncorks Kram like an evil spirit, frenetically singing to the whole wide world all at once. This is the kind of song that never seems to stop, then suddenly drops into a sort of Mott the Hoople–esque bridge at half speed, using just enough time for a quick drag on a giant burrito-sized reefer, before rolling back into the primary verse. Perhaps Kram needed a break midway through—this is the only song in which one can literally hear him drawing the oxygen he needs in order to belt this puppy out. The lyrics, though by no means especially original, are consistent with the head-pounding and ripping nature of this song: “I’ve been driving in my car, and I can hear there’s something missin’ —— oh where’s the baseline? / You’ve been low, you’ve been high, you’ve been preying on me all night.” Gather your friends around, do some shots, and turn this mother up until your neighbors call the cops.

“I’m Not Your Slave” is a marked departure from most Spiderbait music. It has the vocal styling and tone of a Jack White song, with a guitar that sounds like it might be channeling the spirit of a now-retired guitar pedal once owned by Eddie Van Halen or Steve Vai. It also marks a departure from the initial hard–soft–hard pattern of the album, a trend that lasted an entire five songs. The lyrics on this one are pretty extraordinary (look ‘em up).

Spiderbait—Looking serious, but probably laughing inside

“Get Bent” is a ditty, that’s the most apt description I can summon. Kram doesn’t bother covering up any of his Aussie accent and sings in a lower register, nearly in spoken word. This song is reminiscent of the best Kinks songs (a more contemporary example would be Australian band the Cat Empire), and no wonder: Kram sounds a lot like Ray Davies here, and lyrically it sounds exactly like a song that Ray Davies would write. I might also note that the bass line on this one is pretty intense—I’m surprised that English wasn’t knocked down by the reverb (come to think of it, I have no way of knowing that she wasn’t).

“What You Get,” showcases English again, but this time in a driving punk song, albeit not as stripped down as most. Its punk status is helped by English’s wry delivery, but injured greatly by her ability to sing in tune. Near the end, the band go into a maniacal frenzy, and fade out that way.

“Freakazoid,” is a heavy, slogging maniacal beast roaming through the woods and trying to kill everyone in sight. It’s also instrumental—sadly, most beasts are capable of neither speech nor song.

“Crazy Pants (Rockstar for a Night)” is a pleasant little slow roller about crazy pants, sneakers, dancing, and being a rockstar, pretty much in that order, and recalls the fun-loving Nickelback tune, “Rock Star.” Just kidding—it sounds nothing like the Nickelback song. Also, the song is mostly about kicking the ass of the poser in your life (feel free to find one in your own life, and play this song for same while you have the locks changed on your habitat).

“Mars” has lots of whispering in it.

“Reach for the Sky,” in some sort of twisted trick, is a gem that the band hid near the end of the album, perhaps as recompense for the preceding song consisting almost entirely of whispering. As I was listening to it, I had to stop writing and go to the outside bar, slamming my head against it until marble whorls were etched in relief on my forehead. This song could easily have come from an Ozzy Osbourne or Dio album. But it didn’t.

“The Sun Will Come Shining” is a Go-Go’s–sounding tune with the same happy message, except with stronger musicianship all the way around. Hey, I love the Go-Go’s as much as the next guy, but really, Kram can play him some mean drum, that’s all I’m saying.

“Goodbye” ties this opus together rather well.

All in all, despite some early cynicism, I must admit that the song choices for the album were excellent, and what appeared at first to be a quirky track order was actually quite cohesive. More than that, this album is impossible to define, showcasing an incredible amount of musical talent that crosses several genres fluidly and, for the most part, flawlessly.

Spiderbait LP track list

Straight Through The Sun 3:56
It’s Beautiful 3:40
Miss The Boat 5:13
Supersonic 4:33
Where’s The Baseline 3:17
I’m Not Your Slave 3:13
Get Bent 3:01
What You Get 3:33
Freakazoid 1:38
Crazy Pants (Rockstar For A Night) 3:40
Mars 4:22
Reach For The Sky 4:31
The Sun Will Come Shining 2:37
Goodbye 2:35

Total track time 49:49

Note: track times shown are from digital media, and may vary from those of other sources.

Players: Janet English—vocals, bass; Mark Maher—vocals, drums; Damian Whitty—guitars.

Label: Universal Music Australia Pty Ltd. (Mercury label for physical CD and vinyl).

Production: All tracks except “It’s Beautiful,” “Where’s the Baseline,” and “Crazy Pants” composed by Janet English, Mark Maher, and Damian Whitty. “It’s Beautiful” and “Crazy Pants” composed by Janet English, Mark Maher, Francois Tetaz, and Damian Whitty. “Where’s the Baseline” composed by Janet English, Dann Hume, Mark Maher, and Damian Whitty. Mastered by Joe LaPorta.

Management: Fiona Duncan.
Booking: Owen Orford at New World Artists; http://www.newworldartists.net.
Other: Released November 2013. Additional band information available at spiderbait.com.au.

I Don't Know. Did They Play Texas Hold 'Em in the Mid-1800s?

2020-02-20T12:59:00.003-08:00

On How to Find the Frequency and Existence of Words and Phrases

Lordy, Lordy, Buckeroos, and a happy day to you!

Today's theme is secrets. Let me share a secret with you, but don't share our secret with anyone I've blocked. That would be bad. But unlike a priest who admonishes a child not to share their secret lest the child's family be cursed, I shall merely be sad.

It's called the Google Ngram Viewer. Ever wonder about variations on a word--for instance, symmetric versus symmetrical? The dictionary says they are both fine, but what do folks use in practice? The Ngram Viewer will tell you. It's not perfect, but it's the best there is to date. And you can search date ranges, which is especially helpful for historical fiction (so you don't mistakenly use "home run" [mid-1800s] or "all in" [1903] in a book set in the early 1800s):

Check out Google's Ngram Viewer

Get more details about Ngram Viewer

Note if you will that the current corpus for Ngram Viewer is 2012, so frequency tends to tail off around 2010 or so as Google continues to scrape recent books into its database. A falloff does not necessarily mean that a word's absolute frequency is declining.

Beyond whether a word exists for a certain period, one can get a decent idea of when a word originated. Perhaps more crucial, especially in dialogue, is that one can discern when one spelling or phrasing has subsumed another. For example, determining when the currently (slightly) dominant phrasing "worse comes to worst" took the reins from the traditional "worst comes to worst" (the understood meaning back then was "when worst becomes the worst"):

Stay sexy, Buckeroos.

It's All Right to Dream

2020-02-20T11:44:00.003-08:00

But It Takes Real Guts to Realize When It's Time to End the Sadness

Many writers believe that writing is just a matter of putting words on a page—the more words, the greater the chance of success. But words are simply raw materials, as writing must first and foremost communicate ideas to others. A haphazard string of poorly structured sentences communicates little, and when done poorly but with the right amount of righteous fervor, what is communicated is often contrary to the writer's intent.

So don't go around throwing words into the air like fistfuls of sand, hoping they will land in all the write places to make a castle for you. Unless you're Harry Potter, of course. Then do whatever the hell you want.

Woe Is the Poor Little Semicolon, but He Shall Surely Some Day Rock

2020-02-20T11:40:00.002-08:00

I Probably Wouldn't Pick a Semicolon as My Go-To Rocker Move (probably Jimmy Page), but If It Works . . .

When I think of semicolons, I mostly think of abused children; you know the type, bruised and scared but staring you down with those little eyes saying, "Save me from this hell, you editor bastard!"

Then again, some of you miscreants might actually learn something, so I feel compelled to share this.

Party on Buckeroos; and party on, Buckeroos.

(p.s. San Diego State is the only undefeated team left in Division I basketball; of all the writing shit I can share with you today, this last is most important.)

Sure, I'm an Empath

2020-02-20T11:06:00.001-08:00

On the Virtues, Based on the Literal Definition, of Being Inside the Mind and Feeling the Feelings of Another Person No Matter How Fucked Up They May Be

Many people think I lack empathy. I, like many of you, am prone to errors from time to time, so yes, I have loads of empathy for all your sudden flights of sudden frivolity as you roll round and round while looking down and all around using your eyes after turning your head on its tall yet still statistically normal neck.

Just yesterday, I was recalling my most recent grammatical error.

Then I remembered, most suddenly, that it were someone else.

Cheerio, you little Buckeroo fuckers.

Focusing on What Matters

2020-02-20T11:02:00.003-08:00

An Important Skill to Hone

I'm working on a new short story titled "Brent Wood Saves the World One Idiot at a Time," but I'm having a really hard time with a long, dense, veiny descriptive scene.

My MC is eating oatmeal before heading out to bang his best friend's mom. But that last part is not especially important to the story line, so I'm focusing on the part that is:

How should I describe the bowl and utensils, and what type of oatmeal is it?

Also, I need answers before 9:20 a.m. tomorrow (second period).

Thanks in advance.

Articles—So Tiny Yet So Important

2020-02-17T06:36:00.001-08:00

Sometimes It's the Little Things That Matter Most

"I'm a writer and editor."

Unless you write it as "I'm a writer and an editor," you are neither.